A Walking Shadow
by Momoiro Usagi
Summary: Dante leads Rose in a twisted dance. DantexRose


_Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow_

_Creeps in this petty pace from day to day_

_To the last syllable of recorded time._

_And all our yesterdays have lighted fools_

_The way to dusty deaths. Out, out, brief candle._

_Life is but a walking shadow._

_A poor player who struts and frets his hour upon the stage,_

_And then is heard no more. It is a tale, told by an idiot,_

_Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing._

_-Macbeth. 5:4 _

* * *

Candlelight spins circles around her lightless stare. Her face is finally clear; she's finally too far removed to ever make another mistake. She is finally too weak to fall on her own.

"Baby," she whispers breathily, but her words are too insubstantial to shake the placid veil from her face. I stare at her, remembering the way her lips used to break into a little smile: a smile only for him. But not anymore.

I clasp her hand in mine, tightening my hold on her. Closing in. "The baby's not here right now," my words drip from my mouth: lacking warmth, but soothing nonetheless. Control without fake smiles. That's what she really needs. "It's just you and I, now, Rose. Just you and me."

Slices of yellow light spread out across the abandoned dance floor. With a tug of her wrist, our feet start moving in time. The sound of our heels clicking simultaneously on the tiles is both lulling and inspiring. It puts me at ease, yet prompts me to act. "So beautiful," I muse, my gaze lingering hungrily on her drawn frown. Little, chaste lips framed by a world of nothingness. "All mine."

I lead, of course. Sliding my fingers down her waist, I grip her possessively, pushing her into turn after dizzying turn. And she follows me, doing as I wish. She really does need me. "Dante," she mumbles automatically. Unknowingly. But that's how it should be. As we twirl together, the world whirls into a daze. A fog that should intimidate me, but doesn't. I find the confusion comforting.

Our legs brush; the chiffon of our dresses swishes together in a sparkling display of unified grace. Our steps weave out a spider web, binding us together with transparent chains of silk. Beautiful and unbreakable. "Mine," I repeat, enjoying the taste of the words on my tongue. "All mine."

The vague flicker of the lamps bounces off of our sparkling dresses, multiplying it a thousand times before sending it flying towards the wall. I stare into her blank visage, taking in the warmth of her caramel skin and the contrast of light and dark that crowns her head. Her own pretty halo. Her lavender eyes meet mine; I see my own image floating on her glassy orbs. I see myself in her, remembering how I, too, fell limp under the strong hands of an unfeeling lover. But that was back when I was still weak. I wasn't leading the dance back then.

"He doesn't love you," I nod meaningfully, whipping her delicate form across the dance floor. "He doesn't care." Oh, but he does. If one can consider the paradox of greedy passion and an unwavering sense of responsibility _love_. I once believed it to be love. But that was back then. When I was weak.

Her eyes widen only slightly. "No."

Her resistance, no matter how weak, fills me with irritation. "Yes," I insist, pulling her nearer to me, closing in around her flaccid figure. My fingers slide up her arms; I pause, stopping the dance for just long enough to savor the softness of her skin and the firmness of her breasts pressed against mine. Another body for me to claim. Another past for me to swipe away. But this time it's different. This time there's even more in it for me. "Yes."

I grab her shoulders, pushing her up against a marble column as I claim her lips in a possessive kiss. Exploring her with my tongue, I take in the taste of sweet wine and desert wind. I take in every memory, yet I feel like it's already mine. Biting down, I wait for her to respond: to scream. But I'm not very surprised by her lack of response. Oh well, it's better that way.

"Rose," the tangy flavor brushing against my lips tempts me to continue my brutal assault. But, at the same time, I'd hate to see such a beautiful body ripped apart. Such a waste it would be. The thought of damaging such a perfect form is appealing, but foolish. She must remain my flawless doll. At least for now. At least until the time is right.

So instead I choose a different tactic. My long fingers roll her gown off of her shoulders, exposing every inch of flawless skin to my adoring eyes. Her whimpers become her swan song: the last ounce of life escaping her withering soul. I work her perky breasts in my sweaty palms, making her tremble all over. When she trembles, I know she is mine. All mine. "You like this, don't you?" I tease as I trail kisses across her collarbone, letting her shivers guide my every movement. She guides me, but still I remain in control. The perfect idiosyncrasy for my perfect toy. "I know you do."

"Uhn," she gasps; one last sound before she melts under my commanding touch. Dipping lower, I let my lips brush her chest, running my tongue in circles over her supple curves. The taste of her skin. The hammering of her heart. I draw it all in. I claim it, because I know I am entitled to it. I deserve it.

"You want this?" I really see no need to persuade any longer, grinning in satisfaction as her hips shudder unexpectedly. I dip my hands between her legs, pushing her chiffon skirt to the floor as I start to move between her lips at a maddeningly-slow pace. I take time, enjoying the way her juices fall in beads down my wrists and smiling each time I feel her body jolt as I graze over her sensitive nub of flesh. Irresistible.

Soon I, too, will be irresistible. And it will be me he wants instead of this helpless doll of a girl. He'll want me.

"Uhn," I'm shocked as she starts to pull away, tightening my hold on her hips as I stare up at her with expectant eyes. Her face seems different somehow. It seems more vibrant. More alive than it's been for months. I nearly scream out in hatred as I see her lips twist up into a wistful grin.

"Ed."

She's just like I used to be. But I was weak back then. I wasn't leading the dance.


End file.
